


Die, Dragon, Die

by AthenasAspis (agentandromeda)



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Based on True Events, Coffee Shops, F/F, Gen, not super ship focused, rhys and vaughn are frat boys, the cornell pumpkin makes an appearance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 22:26:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17733800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentandromeda/pseuds/AthenasAspis
Summary: GREEK LIFE, pg. 2Eden University offers a refreshing and engaging alternative to traditional fraternities and sororities. On campus are two Houses, Hyperion and Siren, that have housing for all genders of students and aim to encourage community and education. We think a bit of competition between Houses is good, but it never gets unhealthy! See page 9 of this magazine for more information on our annual Dragon Day.





	Die, Dragon, Die

**Author's Note:**

> this story is based on true events bc my dad has some stories too good not to write about

Of course, the art was all anyone could talk about the next day.

By the time afternoon classes got out, half the school had walked by the library to crane their necks and gaze at the colors splashed over the dome of the library, and the other half just hadn’t heard about it yet. Some stared, either with approval or rage, at the crude Hyperion logo with an X through it and the caption “Down With Hyperion!” Sasha and Fiona’s work. They’d thought it was quite an impressive stunt; nobody had ever made it up to the library roof for a prank before. But a far larger crowd gathered at the other side of the dome, featuring a beautiful mural—how the hell had that been done with spray paint?—starring a winged siren plunging a sword into the chest of a prone dragon, with a speech bubble that said, “Die, Dragon, Die.” Even the assholes from Hyperion House looked at it with grudging admiration.

There were already bandied rumors as to the identities of the artist—well, artists, as some speculated but few knew. Sasha only held the answer to half of that equation. The other figure on the top of the library roof the previous night had been enigmatic and completely masked. All they had left was a tiny card on the ledge. Now it lived in Sasha’s pocket. A blue business card emblazoned with white inked wings.

Dragon Day was coming up. The sisters were going for their second year of being Siren House’s star pranksters. And they weren’t about to let some newcomer mess that up.

“How did they even get on top of the library?” Sasha heard some greasy jerk with a yellow tie—an honest to god tie—mutter to himself. “That’s definitely illegal.”

Sasha’s phone vibrated. 

sash, the message read, i have an idea thats gross and bad but will make hyperion literally shit their pants, u in?

ofc, Sasha replied. 

k, talk later

\---------------------

Siren Song Cafe was new on campus, but Sasha couldn’t for the life of her remember exactly when it had turned up. She certainly couldn’t recall it ever being under construction. It just appeared one day on a street near the engineering building. It was probably a door to the faerie realm, but it offered fair-trade coffee, so Sasha decided to give it a try. 

The inside seemed bigger than the outside, probably due to the shelves of books and knickknacks that formed a sort of maze around the low tables and cushy-looking armchairs. The actual counter looked like that of a French bakery, complete with a glass case full of all manner of sweets. Made in house, not the packaged bullshit up at the Student Union Building. 

Two guys Sasha had seen hanging around Hyperion House were sitting at a corner booth, looking about at shady as college kids possibly could. Perhaps on some sort of date. Or more likely, planning for Dragon Day. They were both inspecting something on a sleek computer screen. Some kind of engineering modeling program displaying a joint of some sort. 

“Oh, hey Sasha,” a voice chimed from behind the counter. The previously unseen—she was very short—barista peered around the cash register to give Sasha a bright smile. Sasha recognized her as one of Siren House’s freshmen. Ordinarily this would have been cause for frustration at the prospect of useless small talk, but Angel was one of the only people in the whole sorority that Sasha could stand. 

“Hey, Angel,” Sasha greeted her. “How’s it going?”

“Crazy about the art thing,” Angel commented, completely ignoring the question. This was pretty standard for her. “That was you, right? Maya says you and your sister were the stars of Dragon Day last year.”

“Of course it wasn’t me. What are you talking about?” Sasha said with a wink.  
Angel laughed. Her laughs were small and rare. Sasha’s eyes were drawn, as always, to her left arm. Maya said that Angel had designed those tattoos herself. If that was true, Angel was quite the artist. Abstract blue lines swirled all the way up to her collarbone in a mesmerizing pattern.

“What can I do for you?” Angel asked. 

“Chai tea latte, small, soy milk, extra cinnamon, please,” Sasha rattled off. She was a creature of habit only with coffee.

“Coming right up! Now, that would be 2.50, but we offer a discount for Sirens. Two bucks.”

“A steal,” Sasha proclaimed without any real emotion or intent as she handed over the two dollars plus one more in the tip jar. 

Sasha usually hated interacting with employees, but talking to Angel just felt like, well, talking to Angel. Everyone loved Angel, but no one really knew her.

I want to know her, Sasha thought. 

She sat down at a seat near the corner booth occupied by the two Hyperion guys. No harm in doing a little recon. Sasha picked up a copy of Eden Review and pretended not to be eavesdropping.

“The joints are the problem,” the short guy, who Sasha had dubbed Mr. Glasses, was saying. “Assquez says we’ll be able to support it, but I’m worried about the structure. What if a whole foot comes off? The Sirens will never let us hear the end of it.”

“I mean, the legs don’t really need to bend, right?” his friend, Hair Gel, replied. “Just weld ‘em shut, who cares? I’m worried about safety. Those damn Sirens get nastier every year.”

Of course, to the trust-fund business students of Hyperion, any mild inconvenience was a nasty affront to nature bordering on terrorism. 

Angel seemingly appeared out of nowhere and set down a steaming white ceramic cup in front of Sasha. Sasha thanked her and went back to her eavesdropping. 

“They aren’t all bad,” Glasses said. “You think some of them are cute.”

“I do not!” Hair Gel hissed. “Just, you know, sort of cool.”

“I’m telling you, bro,” Glasses told him, “you gotta shoot your shot. Ask Zero out.”

Sasha tuned out their conversation, no longer interested. As if Zero would look twice at someone from Hyperion House. 

What kind of idiots planned Dragon Day in a cafe called Siren Song, anyway?

Sasha took her own laptop out of her bag. It was considerably less nice-looking than the sleek black one sported by Glasses and Hair Gel, but it had served her faithfully since high school and had all the stickers to prove it. Even if it was frustratingly slow. And a bit dented. How the hell had she managed to dent a laptop?

She had a chemistry research project due the next day that had completely fallen off her radar. Schoolwork for Hyperion and Siren House alike took a hit in the weeks leading up to Dragon Day as academics took a backseat to design and sabotage. And Sasha hadn’t been sleeping too well.

She was expecting to meet with the standard frustrating connection times, but the Siren Song network was blisteringly fast. 

“How’d you guys get your wifi so fast?” Sasha called over to Angel.

“I know a few tricks,” Angel replied. 

“You’re in computer science?”

Angel shrugged. “It’s a hobby, not a career.” 

Sasha nodded and turned back to her chemistry homework.

\------------------

“Just a few more pages,” Sasha muttered. 

The sound of the coffee maker hummed over her headphones. It was a janky machine, loud enough for Sasha to hear from the kitchen table, and reminded her of the frustratingly long time she’d wasted at Siren Song yesterday.

“Are you gonna use this?” Angel called, probably gesturing to the coffee maker. “I can leave it on.”

“Don’t have time,” Sasha replied, half to Angel and half to her computer. “Due in half an hour.”

“You haven’t had breakfast, have you.”

It wasn’t a question, so Sasha didn’t respond. She threw herself back into the chemistry project. God, chemistry was hard. Necessary, but hard. While Sasha had a passion for science, she’d never had the aptitude for it.

About ten minutes into her thirteenth slide, someone set something down on the table. Sasha looked over to see that a tattooed hand had just set down a plate of egg on toast and a steaming chai tea latte—made with shitty equipment, but still with extra cinnamon—beside her notes. She looked up to see Angel.

“On the house. Can’t work with an empty tank.”

“Thanks,” Sasha replied with some suspicion. 

Angel shouldered her leather bag and strode out of the kitchen in somewhat of a hurry. 

As far as Sasha knew, Angel hadn’t ever made anyone else breakfast before.

Don’t let it get to your head, she told herself, but the “it” in question had already boarded a one-way train straight to Headville.


End file.
